by Ruth Langan
Maggie nodded. “All right. If I’m still here when the snows come, and if you still want to keep him indoors, I’d be more than happy to work with Cody.”
Chance gritted his teeth. If she was still here when the snows came? Where did she expect to go?
Her words broke through his reverie. “Cody seems like such a sweetheart.”
“He’s a true cowboy. Lives by a cowboy’s code. He may be tough as nails, but he’s respectful to women. Smokes only outdoors. And he taught my brothers and me more about cattle ranching than we could have learned in a lifetime.”
“How did he happen to work for you?”
“He worked for my father on and off, then just drifted away. Cowboys rarely stay in one place for very long,” he added absently. “But every time we needed him, he just seemed to be here. And when the work was done, he’d disappear again. Then, when he heard that we’d lost our father and were struggling to keep the place going, he just showed up on our doorstep. And he’s been here ever since. Cody can do anything. Welding. Plumbing. Electrical work. He’s a top mechanic. For years he kept our fleet of trucks and machinery working. Though he had no training as a veterinary doctor, he knows almost as much as Hazard about treating sick animals.” Chance shook his head. “Now, after all these years, Cody’s like one of the family.”
“Like Agnes.”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “Like Agnes. She can’t cook worth a darn. Can’t even properly boil an egg. Can barely get around anymore. In fact, we’re hoping to hire someone to do the cleaning, so she can get off her feet. The only reason we’ve put it off this long is because she’ll be outraged when she finds out what we’ve done.”
Maggie chuckled. “I’d hate to be the one you hire. I saw how she bristled when she first met me. She’s decided that the Wilde brothers are her domain. Everyone else is an intruder.”
He nodded. “She never had any kids of her own. So she made us her life’s work. She’s not about to let anyone in without a fight.”
“She said your father hired her husband when nobody else would.”
Chance shrugged. “It’s a little easier now. But in my dad’s day, it was pretty tough for some of the Native Americans to get work on the ranches. They always had to fight those negative stereotypes. Louis Tallfeather was a natural. He was a lot like Cody. He could do everything. He was one of my heroes when I was growing up.”
Maggie smiled. “And to hear Agnes tell it, your dad was one of her heroes.”
Chance’s tone softened. “Yeah. My dad was an original. Not that he was any kind of a saint. He was the original juvenile delinquent. Ran away from home when he was just a kid. Spent his youth gambling and drifting from town to town. But in the things that mattered, he was the best. I don’t think he ever saw the color of a man’s skin, or cared about his past. He was willing to give everyone a fair shake. As long as they were straight with him, he treated them the same way.”
Chance drained the water from the sink and dried his hands on a clean towel. “It isn’t always easy, but I’ve tried to live my life by that same code.”
Maggie felt a tiny shiver along her spine at the fierceness in his tone. She had no doubt that he was a man who would do exactly what he said.
Glancing at her stained apron, hanging nearly to her ankles, he grinned. “I think we’d better order you a couple of new aprons. The one you’re wearing was made to fit somebody twice your size.”
“I don’t mind. It serves the purpose.”
“Uh-huh.” His smile grew. “A few inches wider and it could be a tent. Any longer and you’d be tripping over it.”
She started laughing. “I did wonder about your last cook.”
“Let’s just say she was big enough and tough enough that if we didn’t like what she fixed, we were smart enough to keep our mouths shut. In fact, she could have answered to the name King, as in Kong.”
Maggie was laughing harder as she turned away to stir the clam sauce and start the water for linguini. Chance leaned against the sink and watched her. And realized that he was having a great time.
“What is this?” He pointed to the rack of freshly made pasta. “You actually make your own?”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone?” When he didn’t answer she turned to stare at him. “You mean you’ve never tried making your own noodles?”
“The closest I’ve come to making my own was picking up a carryout at the E.Z. Diner and heating it in the microwave oven when I got home.”
“I can see your education has been sorely lacking. All you need is a little flour and egg and…”
“Spare me the details. I can’t wait to taste this.” He leaned over her shoulder. “Have you heard from Cass?”
Maggie nodded. “She phoned over an hour ago to say that Ace won’t be coming home tonight.” She lifted the wooden spoon from the sauce and held it to his lips. “Taste this. See if it meets with your approval.”
He closed his hand over hers. This time he was ready for the little jolt. He stared into her eyes as he tasted. “Absolutely perfect.”
“I thought you’d enjoy clam sauce.”
“Oh. You wanted my opinion of the food? I was talking about the woman holding the spoon.”
He saw the color that flooded her cheeks before she pulled free and turned away. “We aren’t going to start that again, remember?”
“We aren’t?”
When she shot him a look, he lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. Anything you say.”
On a whim he left the kitchen whistling, returning minutes later with a bottle of red wine.
While Maggie cooked the linguini and placed a small loaf of garlic bread under the broiler, he opened the wine to let it breathe before filling two glasses. When he held a glass to her lips, she had no choice but to sip.
“Umm. That’s nice. Chianti?”
“I picked it up in Rome.” He tossed off the remark as casually as if he’d mentioned buying it in Prosperous, Wyoming. It occurred to Maggie that he was a man who would be comfortable anywhere in the world.
He was standing a little too close and looking at her a little too carefully. She felt the prickle along her spine as he remained beside her, sipping his wine while she stirred the sauce and tested the pasta with a fork.
When the phone rang, he crossed the room to answer it. Maggie let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding.
The man made her tense. Just being alone with him had her temperature rising. She’d be relieved when Hazard joined them. Then she’d be able to relax and just be herself. There was something soothing about the gentle middle brother. He was as calm as his two brothers were volatile.
“Okay.” Chance’s deep voice drifted across the room. “Tell her hi for me, bro.”
He hung up the phone and picked up his glass before walking toward her.
“That was Hazard. He and Cody are in town and running late. They’ll grab a bite to eat at Thelma’s and pick up your supplies before they head home later tonight.”
He smiled, and Maggie was reminded of the cat that had just eaten the canary. “So it looks like it’ll be just you and me tonight, Maggie.”
“How cozy.”
He brought his face close to hers, and breathed her in. “I was thinking the same thing.”
He picked up her glass, offered it to her.
When their fingers brushed, she nearly jumped back, before reminding herself to settle down. There was, af ter all, nothing to be alarmed about. They were two adults, about to share a simple dinner. Nothing more.
Still, the look in his eyes had her heart stuttering. She took a long, calming sip of wine and met his gaze with what she hoped was a look of cool indifference.
“The pasta is ready if you’re feeling hungry.”
“I’m starving. The smell is driving me wild.”
She smiled and cautioned herself to relax as she began to drain the pasta in a colander. “I know. There’s something about clam sauce and garlic that alway
s makes me drool.”
“I wasn’t talking about the food.” He stepped closer and set down his glass beside hers. “I was talking about you, Maggie. You make me weak.”
She gripped the edge of the sink when she felt a trembling beginning in her legs. “You’ve got to stop doing that, Chance.” She steadied herself. “This is crazy. I work for you. We can’t…”
“Oh, we can.” His voice was as cool, as calm, as if he were discussing the weather. “And we will. Of that I have no doubt.”
She lifted her head and forced herself to look at him. What she saw had the blood roaring in her temples.
His eyes were narrowed on her with a hunger that spoke to a matching hunger deep inside her. When he made a move to touch her she reached out a hand to hold him at arm’s length.
He paused. Then a slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “Okay. You’re not ready yet.”
“Yet?” Her eyes grew as dark as storm clouds. “What arrogance. You make it sound as though it’s only a matter of time.”
His smile grew, which only added to her temper. “It is, Maggie. It’s as inevitable as the snow that’s going to be covering the ground in the next couple of weeks. But I won’t rush you. You take all the time you want.”
“Thank you. How very understanding of you.” Her tone was pure ice.
Still smiling, he took a step closer. This time she backed up until she could feel the press of the counter digging into the small of her back. With nowhere to go, she lifted her chin a fraction.
“I love the way you do that.” He caught her chin in his hand and stared down into her eyes. “You have the most expressive face. Did you know? Those incredible eyes flash fire. And your mouth turns down in the most intriguing pout. It almost begs a kiss.”
She saw his gaze shift until he was staring at her mouth. She felt for a moment as though all the blood had drained from her head. If he kissed her now, she didn’t think she’d have the will to stop him. The mere thought of it had her blood heating and her heart racing.
Instead he surprised her by brushing his fingertips over her nose and cheek. “Flour. I was almost tempted to try kissing it away, but I figure you’d probably let me have it with a pot of linguini.”
“I still might.”
“Is that a dare?”
“Take it any way you want.”
“Thanks for the offer. Don’t mind if I do.” Before she realized what he intended, he leaned close and brushed his mouth over hers.
The rush of heat was instantaneous. And devastating. With each brush of his lips, with each touch of his fingers along her spine, she absorbed another blow to her already overloaded system. The potent male taste of him sent little darts of pleasure streaking right through to the center of her being.
When at last he lifted his head, she was forced to stand perfectly still, fighting for breath.
“I think we should forget about eating.” His lips brushed her temple. His warm breath feathered her hair. “And go right to dessert.”
“Not on your life.” Determined to nip this in the bud, she pushed against him and stepped away.
Handing him a basket she said, “Better get that garlic bread out of the oven before it burns.”
Without bothering to look at him, she reached for a platter and heaped it with linguini, before ladling sauce over it. She removed two salads from the refrigerator and placed them on the table.
She was relieved a moment later when he topped off their glasses with wine and crossed to her.
“Very smooth, Maggie.” He handed her a glass and touched the rim of his lightly to hers in a salute. “But there’s no denying what’s between us. One of these nights you’ll decide you’ve made us both wait long enough.”
At his words, spoken so deliberately, she had to fight the jittery feeling that curled along her spine.
“For now—” he smiled and held her chair “—let’s just enjoy each other’s company.”
She sat and sipped her wine, waiting for the feeling to pass. “You mean, in a sane, civilized manner?”
He sat across from her and shot her a dangerous look. “Believe me, Maggie, when it comes to what I want to share with you, there’s nothing civilized about it.”
He saw the way she ducked her head to hide the flush that stained her cheeks. Anger? Or was it something more? Maybe she was fighting her own battle, because she wanted the same thing. His blood warmed at the thought. He couldn’t be certain. Yet. But this much he knew. The more she held back, the more he wanted her.
Though he had never been a patient man, he was willing to bide his time. No matter how long it took him, he had no doubt that sooner or later he’d uncover every exciting, mysterious thing there was to know about the very private, tight-lipped Maggie Fuller. Since he was the gambling son of a gambling man, he was willing to bet everything he owned on that.
Chapter 6
“Agnes.” Maggie paused in her work to watch the old woman pass through the kitchen carrying a bucket of water. “Don’t you ever stop working and just sit?”
“Why would I do that?”
“To catch your breath. To just relax.” Maggie picked up a china cup. “How about some tea and biscuits?”
The older woman shrugged. “Huh. I suppose I could. You going to have some?”
Maggie nodded. “Okay. I could use a break.”
She filled two cups and set a plate of biscuits and a little bowl of jam on the table.
Agnes set down her bucket and took a seat, rolling her tired shoulders. She sipped. And almost smiled before she caught herself. “Don’t like to take a break in the middle of the day like this. Makes it hard to get started again. What’d you put in these?”
“A little cinnamon, a little nutmeg. You like them?”
The older woman shrugged. “They’re not too bad.”
That, Maggie realized, was probably the closest she’d ever get to a compliment.
“What’re you fixing for dinner tonight for the guys in the bunkhouse?”
“Don’t have to cook. It’s Friday night. Those that aren’t needed here will drive into town and eat at the E.Z. Diner. Then they’ll head over to Clancy’s.”
“What about those who have to stay?”
She shrugged. “Chili burgers.”
“And for dessert?”
Agnes looked up. “Dessert? These are cowboys, city-woman.”
Maggie smiled. “I’d think even cowboys would have a sweet tooth. What’s your favorite dessert, Agnes?”
The older woman leaned back, holding the cup in the palm of her hand. “There was a cornbread my ma used to make. Don’t know exactly how she fancied it up, but it had cherries in it, I think. And nuts on top.” She shook her head. “Haven’t had it in years, but I can still taste it.” She finished her tea, then set down the cup and eased herself out of the chair. “Thanks for the tea and biscuits. Time I got back to work.”
As she walked away, Maggie searched her mind for cornbread recipes.
“Maggie.” Ace breezed in and picked up a piece of flatbread from a tray, generously slathering it with a cheese spread from the bowl beside it.
It had become routine for Maggie to have some sort of appetizer ready when the men came in from work. It eased their hunger, since they often forgot to eat for hours.
“I’ve got a request.”
She looked up from the stove. “What would you like?”
“I’m flying in some executives from South Africa. They’ll be going out to the mine site then coming back here for a business meeting. Think you could handle dinner for eight?”
Her smile was quick. At last. A real challenge. “Sure. When?”
He blinked. “Just like that?”
Her smile grew. “Isn’t that why you hired me?”
“Well, yeah. But I wasn’t expecting you to be so happy about it.”
“Ace. I love to cook. This will give me a chance to brush up on my skills. Just tell me when and what you’d like me to fix.”
&
nbsp; “When is next Tuesday. The what is up to you. I don’t care what you feed them as long as they go home happy.”
“Fine.” She resumed stirring. “You won’t be sorry.”
He picked up a second piece of flatbread, covered it with cheese, and popped it in his mouth. “Yeah. I’m counting on it.”
“More veal piccata, Eric?”
“I shouldn’t.” Eric VanEislander patted his ample stomach then reached for the platter. “After those wonderful anchovy mushrooms and the polenta canapés, I shouldn’t even be thinking about seconds. But I don’t believe I’ve ever tasted anything so fine as this. And the filet. Tell me, Ace, is it home grown?”
“Of course. All the beef you eat here is raised on our own ranch. Thanks to Hazard.” Ace glanced across the table at his brother, who was doing his best to stay awake. He’d already put in fifteen hours with the wranglers, and all he wanted was to sleep. But both Hazard and Chance had agreed to be present for this important dinner with the representatives of South Africa’s largest mining consortium.
They watched as their dinner companions polished off an entire platter of steak and veal, and emptied a basket of flaky biscuits.
“More wine?” Ace topped off their glasses and grinned at his brother.
Cody, wearing a leather vest, his only concession to his new role as chef’s assistant, stepped into the room and began clearing away the dishes. When he rolled the cart into the kitchen, Maggie unloaded it. Minutes later she entered the dining room with a crystal bowl containing their dessert.
“Gentlemen, this is our chef, Maggie Fuller.”
While the men around the table offered their compliments, she smiled and touched a match to the contents of the bowl. There was a dramatic flare of firelight that quickly burned off. Then she spooned bananas flambé into individual bowls, which Cody passed around the table.
As quickly as she had appeared, Maggie departed. Then she and Agnes began to clean the kitchen. They were soon joined by Cody.
“Those guys are looking mighty happy,” he muttered. “And Ace has that smile he’s always wearing when he’s just won big-time. They’re about to head into his office to sign a contract. I’d say your dinner party was a success, Maggie.”